


Whisky Tales - The Hunter

by BurntWhisky1



Series: Whisky Tales [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Dominant Dean, F/M, Hunter Dean, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntWhisky1/pseuds/BurntWhisky1
Summary: What does Dean do with all that left-over adrenaline when the hunt is over?  Two hunters find a way to release some of that tension.A series of one shots, each featuring a Winchester."She’s a hunter, a predator, too. But he’s a bigger one, more dangerous."





	

 

Dean throws the crossbow back into the Impala with a clatter. He pauses for a moment, one hand on the raised trunk lid. His muscles are vibrating with left-over adrenaline, aftershocks of fear and anger. He feels a little dizzy with relief; excitement is still coiled in his gut, a warm flood of _being alive_ rushing through his veins.

He looks up as he slams the trunk, a crazy grin on his face. She grins back at him. White teeth in a mud-streaked face. Just another hunter who ended up on the same hunt by accident.

He knows she feels the same thrill, that leftover high that only comes after you’ve risked your life. When he feels like this, he has to do something. Fight, get drunk, get laid. He wonders if she does the same thing?

“Well,” she says, making light of it. “That was fun.”

“You’ve er…” He points at some twig tangled in her hair, raises an eyebrow for permission. She assents with an amused narrowing of her eyes and a tilt of her head in his direction.

He reaches out, begins to free the twig from the knots of wild, loose hair. It’s awesome hair, he thinks; it reminds him of a lion’s mane, all shades of brown and sun-streaked blonde. It’s far softer than its volume suggests. He wonders if it’s all natural, guesses that it is. Hunters don’t have time for days sitting in salons and he remembers Sam told him hair jobs like that took hours to create. Sam knew stuff like that, back when he was around to tell Dean anything.

He’s close enough to feel the warmth of her, the aromas of sun warmed skin and pine needles wafting to his nostrils. He breathes in, feeling a twitch in his groin as her hot breath puffs against the skin of his neck.

The twig comes loose; he drops it, doesn’t step back.

She looks up at him and there’s something in her gaze that makes his heart trip faster. She’s a hunter, a predator, too. But he’s a bigger one, more dangerous. He leans over her a little, sees the acknowledgement of his power in the rapidly beating pulse in her neck.

He drops his lashes a bit, narrows his eyes and focusses his full attention on her. There’s a question in the set of his eyebrows and the way he takes his bottom lip between his teeth. She answers, tilting her head up to expose her delicate throat, letting her mouth open slightly.

He brushes his lips against hers, just a light touch, feels her respond as she leans in towards him. Again, harder this time, letting his tongue drift across her bottom lip. Her mouth opens and the kiss deepens, all warmth and pressure and movement. His heart starts to pound as his belly tightens.

His hands are on her hips now and he tugs her forwards. She comes readily enough, molding herself against him, breasts against his chest, thighs pressing into his legs. He feels a surge of heat in his boxers as she hooks her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, jerking his hips against her. One hand moves on round and takes hold of his ass, pulling him in tighter.

He frees her t-shirt, slips his hand up the ripple of ribs and onto the soft smooth skin of her breasts. No bra, he realises with a shock of pleasure, as his thumb rubs over her swollen nipple.

She whimpers into his mouth and moves against him, pushing her hips into his groin. “Oh..” he groans, deep in his throat, the sound caught between them as his tongue sweeps inside her mouth and she twists hers around it.

He reaches around her, cups her firm ass cheek in his hand and squeezes. She moves a little faster against him and he responds, pushing the fullness in his pants against her.

She reaches up under his shirt, raking her nails gently down his back. Their movement pauses when they find the scars on his ribs, the pressure becoming gentle, almost caring as she traces their pattern.

“Black dog,” he mutters, feeling his breath catch as she slips a finger down beneath his waistband.

Her other hand takes his from her breast and slides it further up. He feels the ridge in the soft skin of her shoulder. “There too,” she hums against his mouth. He strokes the scar gently; it’s a turn on, makes his hard on even bigger. It’s not a blemish to him; it’s a sign of struggle, of life… it’s beautiful.

He moves his hand up to the back of her head, kissing harder, deeper; he wants to be inside this woman, any way he can.

She grinds against him, making a little noise that makes his balls tighten. He grabs her around the waist and pushes her back against the trunk of the Impala, forcing his thigh in between her legs.

She tugs his belt free and opens the top button of his jeans, sliding the zip down. He’s so hard he springs free as she pushes his boxers down, wraps her fingers around him and rubs. The rush of blood is exquisite and when she curls a finger around his balls and flicks a thumb over his slit he is on fire, all _need_ and _want_ and _now_!

He pops the button on her pants, pushes them down a little and stops, panting. Her pupils are blown with lust and he guesses his are the same. He lifts her t-shirt, letting the heavy breasts swing free. He takes one in each hand, the silky skin sliding under his rough skinned fingers. He has to taste them and he dips his head, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking, nibbling. Her back arches, throat exposed as he raises his head and bites her under the jaw. Her nails rake down his back, his hips, pushing his pants and boxers further down.

He slides a hand inside her panties, pushing aside soft fabric and lace and dips a finger inside the soft hair. It’s so wet and hot that he feels himself leak a little in anticipation. He wants to bury himself in there. Instead he rubs rhythmically and she wriggles on his fingers and whimpers.

He pushes her back onto the trunk lid and tugs her jeans right off, parts her thighs and pushes his face in, searching out the little nub with his tongue. He looks up from under his lashes, a grin on his face as he licks and nibbles. Her expression is lost, ecstatic, as she moves against his chin. When she starts to cry out he slips in a finger, two, curling them and twisting, just so. She pushes against him, hard and fast and then clenches, her cries suddenly high and wild as she shudders around his hand. He licks once, twice more, sucking up the sweet juices and then spreads himself on top of her.

She kisses him, smiling at the taste of herself on his swollen lips. “You’re so hot,” she moans, and rubs the dampness between her legs against him.

His balls are throbbing and his cock is rigid; he can’t wait any longer. He lifts one of her legs and pauses, lining himself up and then sinking, one long, slow push, in and in and in until he’s fully inside.

It’s hot and wet and tight and he gasps, shuddering at the sensation. He stays still for a second and then begins to thrust, keeping hold of her ass in one hand, pulling her onto him as he surges forwards. Her fingers dig into his back, there’ll be scratches there later but he doesn’t care. The rhythm speeds up, the urgency builds. He can feel the muscles of his ass clenching as he drives in; no thought of anything now but the fire building in his belly and the need to fill her, totally, completely.

He’s almost there when her muscles clench around him, pulsing and shuddering and she shouts out. White fire explodes instantly in his groin, another deep stroke, another and the spasm hits him hard, his hips jerking and rutting as he empties himself into the shuddering warmth.

He hangs onto her hips; his legs have given way and it’s all he can do to stop himself sliding down onto his knees on the floor. He pants against her neck for a while, nuzzling her shoulder as she strokes his hair gently and little aftershocks twitch through him, making her clench against him in response.

When the air against his ass gets cooler he slips out, his length falling hot and wet against his thigh. She pulls up her pants with a grin, leaving the slick of their coupling on the shiny black paint of the trunk.

He tugs up his jeans, doing up the button with shaking hands. He feels drained, satisfied. The edge left by the hunt has been taken off, for now.

“Need a lift?” He asks. She’s already slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

“Nah.” She smiles at him, brushing back the mane of hair, now even more tousled than before.

She reaches up quickly, takes the back of his head in her hand and pulls him in for a kiss that sends a tingle through his bruised lips. She looks at him for a moment, a soft expression on her face and strokes the side of his cheek gently with her thumb. Women seem to do that to him after sex and he isn’t sure why. He hopes it’s a good thing.

He’ll never find out why, of course. He’ll never see the naked pleasure and vulnerability in his own face at that moment when, just for a second or two, he is all theirs.

“I needed that.” She looks at him from under her lashes, returns his smile and strides away through the trees. He watches the swing of her hips until she’s out of sight and then settles into the driver’s seat with a grin.

Now it was time for a hot meal, maybe a shot or two of whiskey.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Kudos always appreciated ;-)
> 
> They are not mine. They never will be, only in my daydreams. I won't be making any cash or gaining any fame. I'm borrowing them for your entertainment, and mine!  
> All rights belong to Kripke, CW and anyone else who has official ownership.


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